Translations Of German Poetry In American Magazines 1741-1810 - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Such freedom ne'er was ta'en till now, And now 'twas unoffending; Shame spread my cheek with ruddy glow, My eyes kept downward bending.
Nor aught I spoke, my looks he read, As if with anger burning; No--not one word--away he sped, Ah! would he were returning.
_Port Folio_, I-189, Mar. 29, 1806, Phila.
PASTORAL POETRY.
From Gessner's "New Idyls."
THE ZEPHYRS. [b].
[Prose translation.] _Weekly Visitant_, I-158, May 17, 1806, Salem.
[S. Gessner, _Die Zephyre_.
W. Hooper, _New Idylles_, p. 16.]
From Gessner's "New Idylles."
THE CARNATION.
[Prose translation.] _Weekly Visitant_, I-159, May 17, 1806, Salem.
[S. Gessner, _Die Nelke_.
W. Hooper, _New Idylles_, p. 7.]
THE NAME UNKNOWN.
Imitated from Klopstock's ode to his future mistress. By Thomas Campbell, Esq., author of Pleasures of Hope.
_Evening Fire-Side or Lit. Misc._, II-165, May 24, 1806, Phila.
[F. G. Klopstock, _Die kunftige Geliebte_.
The above imitation appeared first in a newspaper, _Newport Mercury_, No. 2160, Aug. 30, 1803, Newport.]
THE FOWLER--A SONG.
Altered from a German air, in the opera of "Die Zauberlote."
A CARELESS whistling lad am I, On sky-lark wings my moments fly; There's not a _Fowler_ more renown'd In all the world--for ten miles round!
Ah! who like me can spread the net?
Or tune the merry flageolet?
Then why--O why should I repine, Since all the roving birds are mine?
The thrush and linnet in the vale, The sweet sequester'd nightingale, The bulfinch, wren, and wood-lark, all Obey my summons when I call: O! could I form some cunning snare To catch the coy, coquetting fair, In _Cupid's_ filmy web so fine, The pretty girls should all be mine!
When all were mine--among the rest, I'd choose the La.s.s I lik'd the best; And should my charming mate be kind; And smile, and kiss me to my mind, With her I'd tie the nuptial knot, Make _Hymen's_ cage of my poor cot, And love away this fleeting life, Like Robin Redbreast and his wife!
_Mo. Anthology and Boston Rev._, III-591, Nov. 1806, Boston.
[E. Schickaneder, _Die Zauberflote_. Oper in zwei Aufzugen von Mozart.
Dichtung nach Ludwig Giesecke von E. Schickaneder.
James Montgomery, _The Wanderer of Switzerland and Other Poems_, London, 1806. First Amer. ed. from second London ed., N. Y., 1807. P.
93.]
THE CHASE.
In the third number[33] of the Port Folio we inserted a very humorous parody of the following ballad of Burger. We understand from the criticks in the German Language that the original is eminently beautiful. Its merit was once so highly appreciated in England that a host of translators started at once in the race for public favor. The ensuing version which is, we believe, by Sir Walter Scott, Esqr., well deserves a place in this journal.
[Footnote 33: _Parody on Burger's Earl Walter_ in _Port Folio_, III-44, Jan. 17, 1807. Cf. p. 165.]
[The translation by Scott follows.]
_Port Folio_, III-100, Feb. 14, 1807, Phila.
[Also in _Weekly Mag._, II-413, July 28, 1798, Phila.]
The following charming SONG is translated from the German by Mr. Herbert.
"Hail, orient sun, auspicious light!
Hail, new-born orb of day!
Lo, from behind the wood-crown'd height, Breaks forth thy glittering ray.
Behold it sparkle in the stream, And on the dew drop s.h.i.+ne!
O, may sweet joy's enlivening beam Mix his pure rays with thine!
The Zephyrs now, with frolic wing, Their rosy beds forsake; And, shedding round the sweets of spring, Their drowsy comrades wake.
Soft sleep and all his airy forms Fly from the dawning day: Like little loves O may their swarms On Chloe's bosom play!
Ye Zephyrs haste; from every flower The sweetest perfumes take; And bear them hence to Chloe's bower; For soon the maid must wake!
And, hovering round her fragrant bed, In breezes call my fair; Go, frolic round her graceful head, And scent her golden hair!
Then gently whisper in her ear, That ere the sun gan rise, By the soft murmuring fountain here I breath'd her name in sighs."
_Observer_, I-352, May 30, 1807, Balto.
Selected Poetry.
THE POEM OF HALLER VERSIFIED.
By HENRY JAMES PYE, Esq., P.L.
Ah! woods forever dear! whose branches spread Their verdant arch o'er Hasel's breezy head, When shall I once again, supinely laid, Hear Philomela charm your list'ning shade?
When shall I stretch my careless limbs again, Where, gently rising from the velvet plain, O'er the green hills, in easy curve that bend, The mossy carpet Nature's hands extend?
Where all is silent! save the gales that move The leafy umbrage of the whisp'ring grove; Or the soft murmurs of the rivulet's wave, Whose chearing streams the lonely meadows lave.
O Heav'n! when shall once more these eyes be cast On scenes where all my spring of life was pa.s.s'd; Where, oft responsive to the falling rill, Sylvia and love my artless lays would fill?
While Zephyr's fragrant breeze, soft breathing, stole A pleasing sadness o'er my pensive soul: Care, and her ghastly train, were far away; } While calm, beneath the sheltering woods I lay } Mid shades, impervious to the beams of day. }
Here--sad reverse!--from scenes of pleasure far, I wage with sorrow unremitting war: Oppress'd with grief, my ling'ring moments flow, Nor aught of joy, or aught of quiet, know.
